Two Background Ponies Eating Cookies
by Piccolo Sky
Summary: Just two background ponies eating cookies...or is it? Not for kids.


Back in this section already? I'm making a habit of this...

This one is pure comedy/satire/parody, however. It's also most certainly _not_ for kids. Ideally, this should be an on-stage dialogue performance between two actors with minimal props (namely two chairs, a table, and a plate of cookies). However, the site doesn't allow script-format stories, so I tried making it "minimalist" prose.

Hope it's funny!

* * *

TWO BACKGROUND PONIES EATING COOKIES

* * *

At a café in Ponyville, a green colored stallion picked a chocolate chip cookie off of a plate he and his blue-colored friend had just ordered. His friend himself was still slowly working on his latest one. A loud crunching sound went off as the two ate. They continued to do so just as they had for the past five minutes for an additional minute.

Abruptly, however, the green one slowed down in eating. He paused for a moment. He looked down to his cookie and stared at it a moment. Then he looked to the plate and stared as well. After munching the bite in his mouth a bit more slowly, more uncertainly, he swallowed it. He didn't take another bite. After a moment longer, he looked up to his friend.

"...Sam?"

The blue stallion, Sam, continued to chew for a few more moments, holding up a hoof signifying for his friend to wait. Finally, after about ten more chews, he swallowed. He took a moment to moisten his lips and teeth and make sure his mouth was clear, and then looked over to the green one.

"...Yeah?"

The green one stared for a moment at him.

"...What are we doing?"

Sam blinked once...twice. He looked down to the plate of cookies in front of him, then back up to the green one.

"...Eating cookies."

The green one continued to stare.

"...Don't you see anything strange about that?"

Sam blinked again.

"...Should I?"

The green one set his cookie down, crossed his hooves, and exhaled.

"Sam, let me ask you a question. Are we herbivores?"

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "...Huh?"

"Do we only eat plants?"

Sam thought for a moment. "...Mmm...yeah, we're herbivores. We're ponies, so we're herbivores."

"Alright...and what do herbivores eat?"

Sam looked up in the sky and thought again.

"Um...hay...grass...oats...flowers, now and then if they're not poisonous...um...fruits...vegetables..."

"...And the occasional pastry." The green one added.

Sam looked down to his friend. "...Yeah, and the occasional pastry."

"Like cookies."

"...Yeah, like cookies."

The green one leaned in a bit. "...Sam, what goes into a cookie?"

Sam shrugged. "...Well, that depends on if you're eating gingerbread, chocolate chip-"

"No, no...not that stuff." The green one cut off. "I mean a cookie in general. What's in a cookie?"

Sam paused again.

"Uh...flour..."

"Yeah..."

"...Sugar..."

"Keep going."

"...A pinch of salt, sometimes...and...um..."

"...Eggs, Sam." The green one stated. "Eggs go into cookies."

Sam hesitated a moment, but then nodded. "...Yeah, eggs go into cookies."

The green one gave Sam a hard look.

"...Eggs are unborn chicks, Sam. They come from chickens. We're eating cookies, so we're eating eggs, so we're eating chickens."

The pony blinked. "...So?"

"So...we eat other animals."

"...Well, don't get so hung up on that."

The green one went wide-eyed. "What do you mean? How can you _not_ get hung up on that?"

"They're just eggs, Carl."

The green one, Carl, looked at Sam incredulously.

"...You're not at all disturbed by this."

"No, I'm not."

"Why?"

Sam paused. "...Because."

"Because why?"

"Well...it's no real big deal." Sam said, leaning back and shrugging. "I mean...you get eggs from a farm...because you raise chickens on a farm...just like apples and hay and stuff."

Carl stared at him in even more disbelief.

"...You're comparing a chicken to an apple."

Sam shrugged. "Why not?"

Carl grimaced and leaned back. "Alright, Sam. You seem to be thinking that anything that lives on a farm forfeits its right to life and well-being."

"I didn't say-"

"You know who else lives on farms, Sam?" Carl cut off. "Cows."

"...Yeah..." Sam admitted, a bit more slowly.

"But according to you, that doesn't matter." Carl rapidly continued. "I can walk right up to Mabel next door and say, 'Hey Mabel! How are you doing? You look great! How's Katie and Ashley? Fine, fine... Oh, by the way, I'm feeling a bit peckish. Mind if I cut off a large portion of your ass, grind it up, shape it into a patty, fry it up, and eat it on a bun?' Nothing seems inherently wrong about that."

"I never said that."

"'Oh! Oh! Hey Carl!'" Carl said, gesturing with his hooves and growing louder as he imitated Sam. "'You know, there's a lot of bunnies living on the east side of town in their little warrens! Want to go dig them up and eat their young?'"

"Carl..." Sam sighed.

"Or how about those robins that came in last Spring? 'Sorry folks, no babies for you this year, Sam here wants an omelette!'"

"Egg Beaters." Sam suddenly stated.

Carl paused and looked to him. "...Huh?"

"Egg Beaters. Artificial eggs. That's what in these cookies."

Carl blinked. "...You're kidding, right?"

"Why not?" Sam shrugged.

"...Our community has chicken coops, Sam. _Why_ do we have chicken coops?"

"Perfectly logical explanation."

"Do tell."

"Alright." Sam said as he leaned forward. "We normally take care of all the rabbits and birds and raccoons and skunks and the whatever running around in town, right?"

"Right."

"Well duh...chickens can't live anywhere! They can't fly so they can't live in trees. They can't dig out burrows with those claws of theirs. We have to house them. It's simple as that."

Carl stared dumbly at Sam for a moment, and then smiled a bit craftily. "...What about the pigs, Sam?"

"Huh?"

"We raise _pigs_. They live outside. In the mud."

Sam paused for a full three seconds.

"...Ok, here's the thing. They're too ill-tempered. They scare and crowd out the other animals. And when winter gets here, they'd try to break into our houses at night to keep warm. So we have to keep them in a pen."

Carl stared at Sam blankly.

"...You were the first idiot to buy cider off those two jackasses who came into town last summer, weren't you? You must buy Kool-Aid by the gallon because you're sure drinking enough of it..."

Sam shrugged. "Hey, you wanted an explanation."

Carl paused a moment, then frowned again. "...That's another thing."

"What?"

"You mentioned winter."

"So?"

"You know what comes next March 20th, right?"

Sam groaned and bowed his head. "Don't remind me. I spent 26 hours straight shoveling three feet of snow off a three square mile area last year... I was wearing an ice pack on my lumbar region for three days."

Carl sighed and leaned back as well. "Yeah, and I had to redo this damn bird nest eight times because the supervisor didn't like it. And then they start getting on my case about how I'm holding up the line. And I'm all like, 'It's a Celestia-damn bird's nest! Maybe if you hadn't told me to re-thread this red ribbon eight f***ing times we wouldn't be backed up!' And then some purple-colored kid whose half my age walks up to me and says, 'That's it, you're on animal wake-up duty!' So then I go over to the damn burrows, and by then, of course, all the rabbits and hedgehogs are done, so they have me wake up the damn badgers! You see this scar?"

Sam didn't look up. "Yes, Carl, I've seen your scar... I've seen it 20 times..."

"And I just got to sit here and wonder...why?"

Sam looked up at that. "Why what?"

"Why do we do it?"

Sam exhaled and leaned back again. "...Well, as much as I hate pushing that damn snow shovel, Carl, I get a little sick of having to thaw my hooves out with a hair dryer for fifteen minutes every day for three months."

"Not that..." Carl said, shaking his head. "I mean...why do we have winter? I mean, we control the seasons, right?"

Sam looked to him. "Right..."

"So why do we do it every year?"

"...It's winter, dude. It's one of the four seasons."

Carl scowled. His volume grew again. "Oh, that explains _everything_, Sam. I nearly break my neck going down the stairs for three months, I have to plan my visit to my kid brother around the schedule for heavy snowfall...not to mention I'm essentially screwed if one of those damn pegasi calls in sick and they end up having to double down the next day...I get frostbite on my snout shoveling the damn walkway two hours out of every day, I end up paying 60% of my salary on what I eat because of food shortages, and we get a flu outbreak in town..._but that's ok, because winter is one of the four seasons!_"

Sam put his hooves up defensively, leaning back. "Sh't, man...chill out. It's not that bad."

Carl said nothing. He looked back at the plate of cookies...seeming almost to study them as if they were the Gordian knot.

"...At least it makes more sense than the tornadoes."

Sam turned to him with a confused look. "Huh?"

Carl sighed and looked to him. "Sam, my sister calls me on the phone frantic last week. I have to get her to calm down for 20 minutes before she finally tells me she and her three kids need to move in with me for six months. I'm like, 'WTF?' You know why? Some pegasus knocked on her door at four in the morning and told her they were planning a tornado in her town and it was probably going to obliterate her block." He gaped at Sam for a moment. "...What the hell, man?! Why does the weather service make tornadoes?!"

Sam shrugged. "...Storm chasers?"

Carl glared at his friend.

"...I'm about five seconds from breaking this plate of cookies over your head. What about that hurricane on the East Coast, dude?"

The pony sighed, throwing his hooves up helplessly. "I don't know...bad management? Why you asking me all of this, Carl? What am I, Whinnypedia?"

Carl's brow furrowed and he looked away. "...What was the name of that hurricane, anyway? It was Angelo or something..."

"Cassandra."

Carl turned to Sam. "...Really?"

"They name the hurricanes. They go through the alphabet. Third one this year." Sam readily responded.

Carl nodded, then looked away again...back to the cookies.

"...That's another thing... Don't you find names a little odd?"

Sam let out a large groan. "Carl, what the hell is wrong with names?"

Carl tapped his hoof on the table, not seeming to notice. "Dude...what's the name of that one hippie mare that lives on the edge of town?"

"Ugh..." Sam said, rolling his eyes as he was drug into it again. He looked up again. "Buttershy...Muttershy, or something."

"Right, it's Something-shy. And guess what, Sam? She's the shyest pony in town."

"Alright, so?"

"What about that kid who's always driving your dog crazy when she goes by on that scooter?"

"...Scooter-Loo...?"

"Uh-huh... Are you seeing a pattern here, Sam?"

Sam paused. "...What, that their names say who they are?" He shrugged. "Well, isn't that just good luck?"

Carl glared at him. "Sam, they were named the day they were born! How the hell did their parents know they were going to end up that way? For Celestia's sake...our mayor is named _Ms. Mare!_"

"It's just a coincidence, man." Sam answered, waving a hoof at him.

"Coincidence?" Carl echoed incredulously. Calming a bit, he gave the stallion a serious look. "Sam, what's my full name?"

"Incarlsistency."

"Exactly!" Carl retorted. "Who in their right mind names a baby colt 'Incarlsistency', Sam?! I thought my mother was high on morphine when she told the doctors! I went through four years of grade school hell because of it! My f***ing Cutie Mark is a Find-The-Difference picture! But sure enough, when I got old enough, all I could ever do was find inconsistencies in things. I mean...you don't think that's just the slightest bit creepy?"

"Carl..."

"Alright, alright...here's another example. Remember when that one kid was kidnapped after school? And everyone started rounding up suspects? The teacher, the parents, the crossing guard, all that?"

"Carl..."

"And I told you...remember what I told you? Remember what I said?"

"Ugh..."

"I said to you, 'I bet you 100 bits it's going to end up being that one guy, because that's the name he has.' And was I right? Huh? Wasn't I right? Who did I say would end up being the guy who did it, Sam?"

Giving up, Sam gave him the name. "...Deranged Lunatic."

"That's why I never sat near that guy in high school!"

"I still say it's a coincidence." Sam answered with a head shake.

Carl again glared at his friend.

"...What's your full name, Sam?" He stated simply.

Sam looked a bit uncomfortable at that. He swallowed. "..."

"...Sam?"

Frowning, and again giving in, the blue stallion sighed.

"...Sam Listens-to-Carl's-problems."

"You see?!" Carl practically yelled. He paused a moment afterward, and then calmed down again. He turned and looked at the cookies a moment longer, then back to Sam.

"...You saw that trial, didn't you?"

"...No, no I didn't, Carl."

Carl shrugged. "Didn't miss much. It only went as far as the defendant's opening statement, and that was only two sentences."

Sam looked over to him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. 'I'm really sorry and I'll never do it again. Can you find it in your hearts to forgive me?'"

Sam paused momentarily.

"...He got off, didn't he?"

"Oh yeah. Jury acquitted him and threw a party for him right after that."

"Hmm."

"Hmm."

"..."

For a moment, both were silent. Carl continued to stare at the cookies, as if he was looking inside the Ark of the Covenant and receiving ultimate truth from it. Sam, on his part, had lost his appetite.

"You know..."

Sam groaned, rolling his eyes, putting his hooves against his cheeks, and pulling down. "Ugh...now what?"

"I was just wondering..."

Sam grit his teeth. "...I know I am going to be regretting this for the rest of the week...but wondering what?"

"...What form of government are we?"

Sam literally slammed his head against the table once, then looked over to his friend angrily. "Damnit, Carl! That's the fourth time this week!"

"Well I really don't know, Sam!" Carl answered with a shrug, looking back to him. "We have a mayor, so that implies that we have an elected government, but then we have an established landed nobility that doesn't intermingle with the lower classes, and on top of all that, we're ruled by a goddess!"

"We're a theocracy, Carl!" Sam shouted back. "I thought we agreed after the last time we talked about this that we're a theocracy!"

"But where's the social contract, Sam?"

"The what?"

"The social contract! The only reason governments exist in the first place is because resources are finite and there isn't enough to go around for all people or groups of people so we need some sort of moderator and arbitrator."

"Not more of this..." Sam groaned as he bowed his head.

"Sam, we don't pay taxes, we don't pay tithes, we don't have to serve in the armed forces, we don't even have to maintain a temple for twenty years of our adult lives! And last I looked, ponies don't bring a whole lot of lawsuits or cases to the federal level, we have Laissez Faire in regards to international economic trade, we have no hostile nations trying to invade us...at least...not in conventional warfare...more like giant parasitic invasions, but that's besides the point... I mean, so we just have figurehead nobility running our country? Where's the covenant between those in power and the masses?"

Sam looked up and glared. "...She makes the sun rise each day, and we throw her a party every time she comes to town. _Is that enough of a covenant for you?"_

"Sam, they've got at least a dozen palaces in the capitol." Carl stated simply. "How do they pay for their upkeep?"

"They...use..._magic."_

"Well if that's true, aren't you a little scared?" The pony retorted. "I mean, one third of the population essentially pays for the whole! Our entire governmental infrastructure depends on them! Doesn't that seem like begging for an abuse of power? And if that's the case, what the hell are we all doing passing around these gold coins with Celestia's image on them? What backs these things? Are we on a gold standard or the guarantee of the government or even divine providence? And how exactly do we punish crimes? I mean...how does it work?"

Sam was growing fed up by now. "What do you mean how does it work?!"

"Sam, let's say in theory that I killed you-"

"WHAT?!"

"I said in theory!" Carl immediately shouted back "Sh't, man! I'm not about to actually do it! But let's say I killed you. And no one finds out about it."

Sam was gaping at Carl by now. "Carl, you know how much this disturbs me that you actually think about these things?!"

"Bear with me! Alright...so I get away with it. So what happens when I die?"

Sam paused, staring blankly at Carl. "...Huh?"

"What happens when I die?"

The pony again looked confused. "I don't get it..."

"The retribution, man!" Carl shouted. "The punishment! I mean, do I live out the rest of my life in peace and that's it? Or one day, am I eating breakfast, I hear a knock, I go to the door and open it and Princess Celestia is standing there and the last thing she says to me before she turns me into a pony-shaped stain is, 'I saw that'?"

"Ugh..." Sam groaned as he double facepalmed and leaned over the table, propping himself up on his hooves.

"And what the deal is with her raising the sun every day? Seriously, is she rotating the planet or is she literally moving something a few trillion times the size of her?"

"Carl..."

"And all of this stuff? The seasons? The animals? I mean...what if this is like some cosmic case of the Story of Chanticleer? We all stop doing it one day and it goes on without us?"

"Carl..."

"Or what if it doesn't? What does that mean, Sam? Does it mean the world we live in is one in which nature is 'broken'? Maybe we're some survivors of a post-apocalyptic age where...I don't know...hairless apes once ruled the world, trashed it in a nuclear war, and we're their successors?"

_"Carl..."_

"Or what if it's more than that? What if we represent an uncorrupted state of sentient life? Maybe we're living out the religious ideal where we were originally intended to be the caretakers of Creation, and that if we ever bring sin into this world then the seasons will become violent but independent and we'll be eternally separated from-"

The blue stallion rose from his seat, slamming his hooves on the table large enough to knock the plate into the air and dump the cookies.

_"CARL! For the love of Celestia, CHILL THE F*** OUT!"_

Instantly, Carl clammed up, leaning back in a mixture of shock and fear from his friend. Sam glared at him for a few moments, taking in several deep breaths to calm himself, and then slowly leaned back in his chair again. After that, he sighed, and then looked Carl straight in the eye.

"Why are you so worried about this stuff? Look at us, man!" He gestured around them. "Look what we're doing in the middle of a work week! Sitting here able to just chew the fat and eat cookies! We live in a utopia! We combine the best aspects of free market capitalism and socialism! There's no racism, no intolerance, no crime, no homeless people, no poverty, no taxes, free health care, clean environment..." He paused, and shrugged. "Sure, some malevolent entity tries to take over town once or twice a year, but that only lasts a day or so and no one ever even goes to the hospital! Everyone loves and accepts everyone else and works for a better tomorrow! Why are you wanting to worry about it so much?"

Carl sat there silently. He looked to the spilled cookies for a moment, then back up to Sam. A few moments of silence ticked by as everything sank in. Then, he looked like he had a revelation.

"...You're right."

Sam eased up more and leaned back. "Of course I'm right."

"I'm obsessing too much."

"Yeah, you do that..."

"I shouldn't think so much about all this. I mean...we _do_ have a great life, don't we?"

"Of course we do."

Carl paused a moment longer, then looked over to Sam. He smiled.

"Sam?"

Sam looked back to Carl.

"...Yeah?"

Still smiling, Carl picked up one of the cookies still left on the plate, and held it up in a toasting gesture.

"To Equestria."

Sam hesitated, then smiled as well, picking up a cookie of his own, then holding it out to clink it to Carl's.

"To Equestria."

Both ponies took a bite from their cookies and began to eat once again. They only got a few bites in before the waitress came by with a smile and a friendly face.

"Either of you boys want any milk to go with those cookies?"

Carl and Sam both froze in mid-bite, looked to each other, and then leaned over and vomited.

* * *

THE END


End file.
